That which does not kill us makes us stronger
by fra22
Summary: My first Post-513 story, centered around B&J. Multiple chapters. A phone call. That's all it takes to plunge Justin in a dark place and for Brian to bring his support.
1. A simple call can change a life

**That which does not kill us makes us stronger.**

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

_**Chapter 1** _**: _A simple call can change a life._**

_Pittsburg, Day 1_**  
**

* * *

"Yeah?"

"Brian? This is Jennifer Taylor."

"Mother Taylor, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Brian replied in the teasing tone he always used when talking to Justin's mother.

"Hmm… I'm calling because… hmm… it's about Justin."

"Is he alright?"

"…"

" Jennifer?" Brian asked, not able to cover the fear ringing so obviously in his voice.

"Yes, he's fine, but this is about him not being fine soon."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't really know how to tell you this so… I'm going to be blunt." Finally burst out Mrs. Taylor.

Brian waited impatiently, his heartbeat pulsing so rapidly he could feel his blood travelling in his veins.

"Justin's father had a heart attack last night and… he passed away."

"Shit" muttered a shocked Brian. "I'm… I'm sorry Jennifer."

"Thank you Brian. Look, I haven't called Justin yet, I was…I was thinking… I was wondering… I don't want him to be all alone when he'll hear this. I was hoping he would be with you and…"

"I'll be on the next plane."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. " a relieved Jennifer said.

"I appreciate you calling me."

"Please call me as soon as you're with him so I can…"

"Of course. "

"Ok, bye then."

"Bye Jennifer."

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Property of CowLip.


	2. News we don't want to hear

_**Chapter 2 :**** News we don't want to hear**_

_NYC, Day 1_

* * *

_There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go._

_Author Unknown_

* * *

"Brian?" whispered Justin, almost to himself. Then, "BRIAN!" he yelled, running towards his lover. He threw himself into Brian's arms and kissed him hard.

"What are you doing here? I mean, I'm glad to see you, happy really, but why this surprise?"

"I'm here to be with you."

Justin's face illuminated the dark hall. Little did he know he would lose his smile soon; too soon.

"Can we get in?"

"Sure, sorry, I'm a bit EXCITED! You're here!" He said plastering his lips one more time on his partner's.

XXXX

XXXX

Once in Justin's "bedroom", Brian sat on the bed. The blond was already getting rid of his shoes, coat, sweater. "Justin, come over here", softly demanded the tall man.

Justin looked at Brian, a little surprised by the request, but cooperatively moved to the bed and sat next to him.

The older man set his eyes on Justin's beautiful face. He reached it and cupped his cheek. Almost against his will, he slowly leaned and softly placed a kiss on his lover lips. He reluctantly leaned back. Justin frowned his brow and the corners of his mouth lifted in a questioning smile. Brian was acting strangely. Why weren't they already fucking?

"Brian?"

"Your mother called."

"She did? Why would she call you?

"..."

" Brian?"

"Sunshine…"

A sudden dread invaded Justin's mind. Why was Brian calling him Sunshine like that? Did something happen to his mother?

"Your father, he… "

It was too hard. Brian knew that the moment he told him, Justin would be devastated. No matter what he said, no matter how he said it, he was about to shatter Justin's world and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He and Jennifer Taylor had debated a long time to decide who should tell Justin. At first, it had seemed only natural that his mother brought the news, but then she had called Brian back, asking him to do it. She had just told Molly and she was drained from all energy. It didn't seem fair either that her son learned it over the phone when someone could tell him face to face.

Justin's eyes were already filling with tears, like he already knew. Brian's cautious behavior said it all.

"Brian?" Murmured the blond man, voice shaking.

"I'm sorry Sunshine but your dad had a heart attack and he didn't make it."

He said it. He made it true. It was real.

Justin's bottom lip quivered and a single tear slid on his cheek.

"He's…he's dead?"

"Yes, Justin. Your dad is dead."

XXXX

XXXX

They stayed like this, silent and immobile for long minutes, processing the news. After a while Brian dared sling his arm around Justin's back, enveloping him, and simply squeezed his shoulder. The young man looked into his eyes like he was searching for the truth, the confirmation that his father was gone. Then he burrowed into Brian and rested his head between his lover's neck and chest.


	3. He was still your dad

_**Chapter 3 : He was still your dad**_

_NYC, Night 1_

* * *

_The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost. _

_Arthur Schopenhauer_

* * *

At some point Justin got up and called his mother. She explained what happened and what was planned for the funeral. He talked a bit with his sister. Then, he delicately placed his phone on the nightstand (a cardboard box) and laid down on the bed. Brian soon joined him after taking his shoes, socks and jacket off.

Justin had his head on Brian's chest. He was firmly held by Brian's right arm, encircling his waist. Brian Kinney might not cuddle but in a moment like this, it was what was right, what was needed and so what was given without a single thought.

"I can't believe he's gone. Really, really gone."

"I know."

"I mean he hasn't… hadn't been a part of my life in a really long time now, but he was still…"

"He was still your dad."

"Yeah" breathed out Justin.

"I get it." And he did. Their fathers might have been different in many ways, but Brian and Justin had both been estranged from their dad, and not necessarily because they wanted to, but mostly because they had to. It was survival.

"I guess it means that my dad did have a heart."

Brian looked at him but could only see the top of his hair. Justin was talking calmly into space, not facing his lover. Brian kissed the top of the blond head while strongly squeezing Justin's waist.

"He was human and like every human being he made bad choices."

"He didn't see it like one."

"Justin, your dad was wrong to cut you out of his life. It was his loss, not yours."

"So why do I feel like this?"

"I don't know."

"I'll never make up with my dad, Brian. He'll never change his mind." added Justin, looking up so that he could stare into Brian's eyes. His voice was so small, so sad that Brian felt his heart clench.

"I'm sorry Justin." It was all he could say. No matter what, he knew from experience that Justin's pain would still be there and that it was not his choice to decide how his young lover should grieve.

"So what, that's it?" exclaimed Justin, his voice tainted with hurt and anger. "So the last time I saw my dad he got me arrested? That's the last thing I shared with my dad? The moment I'll remember all my life! His last words! His disgusted stare! That's all I get?"

Brian was taken aback, not by the unexpected outburst that in fact he expected, but more by the information that was disclosed.

"What are you talking about? When did you get arrested?"

Justin looked at him and explained calmly the repulsive action that his own dad took against him. Justin's calm tone was such in contrast to the abjection he had been a victim of that Brian felt really uncomfortable.

"It was during Proposition 14. I discovered that my dad was a supporter of their cause and I don't even know why I was still surprised. I went to talk to him but he wouldn't listen and I protested with the others in front of his shop. He called the cops and got me arrested. Even the cop was shocked and reluctant." snorted Justin. "But of course my father had to show me how _big_ of a man he was. Ben and my mum bailed me out."

"I didn't know. You didn't tell me."

"What for?" shrugged Justin. "It was done; another slap from my dad. There was no point in dwelling on it."

The blond artist put his head back on his lover's chest and murmured:

"I guess I have to say goodbye to my foolish dream that one day he'll change his mind and consider me again his son. That one day I'll make him proud."

They stayed like this until the night came and sleep claimed them both.


	4. Darkness is my new home

A/N: Extremely short chapter for a reason. I divided this chap4 in two and inserted another chapter in between. So, the next chapter (5) will be a sort of gapfiller and mention Brian and Justin's lives since the blond left Pittsburg. Then, we will get back to NY "present time"in part 4 B .

* * *

_**Chapter 4 A : Darkness is my new home **_

_NYC, Night 1_

* * *

_Si tu souffres, que tu es dans le noir, alors je viendrai m'asseoir regarder la nuit à côté de toi._  
_If you are suffering, are in the dark, I will come and sit down and watch the darkness next to you._

* * *

Brian woke up several times in the middle of the night. Sometimes Justin would be at the window looking at the less than exciting view, lost in thoughts. Sometimes he would be sitting on the edge of the bed, folded in two, arms on his thighs, still. Sometimes Brian would call him and Justin would join him, lying next to him in his arms, safe. Sometimes Brian would just look, not knowing what to do. Was he even of any help?

He got his answer when Justin whispered after once again coming back to bed. "I'm glad you're here".


	5. Your bed, your place, our lives

A/N: So here is chapter 5, the sort of gapfiller I was telling you about.

* * *

_**Chapter 5: Your bed, your place, our lives**_

_NYC, the past seven months_

* * *

None of them slept well that night. It wasn't surprising in a situation like this one, but also Justin's bed was small. It was a bit bigger than a single bed but less than a double. Sometimes Brian thought Justin had done it on purpose so that they had to sleep really close to each other, but when he looked around the closet that served as Justin's bedroom he knew that it was just because of the lack of money and space. Since Justin had left seven months prior, they hadn't seen each other much. The last time had been two months ago. It wasn't the kind of reunion they both had been looking forward to. Still, it felt good to be in each other's arms.

Somehow life was the same as when Justin was in L.A. They talked on the phone several times a week, emailed when Justin found a cybercafé, and like back then, none of them knew when Justin would be back; if ever. The difference was that now both of them knew for sure that they both loved each other deeply and was they both missed the other like crazy. Brian couldn't pretend anymore; Justin knew. Besides, he didn't have the strength to fight it any longer. Despite that, the older man still only visited his partner when business trips in NYC were scheduled. At least that was what he was trying to sell everyone. Somehow Justin knew that those trips were not as required as Brian liked to make him believe. If New York firms and companies were willing to work with an ad agency located in Pittsburg it didn't sound so logical that they would ask Brian or any of Kinnetik employees to fly to the big Apple to close a deal. But Justin kept his mouth shut. Better not to say anything than to tease the beast, especially when it was already difficult enough for both of them to find time for each other.

More surprising was the fact that Brian agreed to spend the night at Justin's place. It was small, ugly and the shower was so tiny that two people couldn't fit in it. That had been a big let-down for both men. Still, Brian seemed to understand Justin's need and desire to have him stay at his place. It was the first time he was doing so. He could say it was because back in the Pitts they lived together for the major part or that it was really not polite to fuck their brains out when Daphne or Debbie or even Mrs Taylor were in the next room or because they weren't together at first when Justin had his crappy studio; the truth was that Brian liked his comfort and more importantly he like being in control. He needed to know that if things got out of hands and he was backed into a corner he could request that the person leave the loft. He could throw them out and still feel victorious. Strangely, having to leave an apartment after a fight or worse, being asked to leave, was less than attractive to him.

So, the first time he visited Justin he didn't book a room in some great hotel. He arrived with a simple duffle bag and some suits carefully wrapped up in dry-cleaner's bags. Justin had bounced around excitingly when Brian proudly told him he was ready to affront NY's rats and cockroaches, and especially the "cock" part. Justin had jumped in his arms and showed his appreciation in the best way he knew how and Brian got through that first night without even noticing it.

And now, a few months later, he couldn't be gladder that he was here, in this stupid apartment, in this stupid bed. He couldn't even imagine Justin all alone in this big town, hearing the news over the phone.


	6. Not all tears are an evil

A/N: Back to present time : the first night.

* * *

_**Chapter 4 B : ****I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil. **_ J.R.R. Tolkien

_NYC, Night 1_

* * *

_In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life._  
_ Nicholas Sparks_

* * *

Brian woke up again to the sounds of sobbing. Justin was on the other side of the small bed. From the pillow muffled sounds that his lover was emitting, Brian knew Justin was trying to be discrete and not be overheard. It was silly, really, because he had witnessed Justin crying a few times over the years. But still, he understood the feeling. Justin was vulnerable and hated it. Most of all, he hated to be vulnerable in his partner's eyes and Brian could relate to that. The older man waited a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do and then softly called out Justin's name. It was just a whisper but he knew the blond heard him, as Justin held his breath trying to make the sobs stop.

"Justin" repeated the older man. He reached over and grabbed Justin's arms and held him firmly.

They didn't move for a long time. Only cars in the street and sniffling sounds could be heard.

Then Justin broke the semi-silence:

"How can I be sure he loved me?"

Brian was a bit startled by the question.

"Maybe he didn't even love me when I was a kid if it was so easy for him to erase me from his life. Is liking to have a cock in your ass so awful that your own parents would stop loving you? I mean, it must be the most disgusting thing on earth if the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally can't even bear having you in their life. Are we disgusting, Brian?"

"Christ no,Justin!" yelled Brian while turning Justin to him. Justin had never been ashamed of who he was. That was not going to start now, especially now that Craig Taylor was gone. He stated firmly, pointedly looking at his younger lover:

"Don't you dare ever say that! I don't want you to ever ask that again. EVER, you hear me! You are not disgusting and neither am I. What we do in bed and like and don't like is none of their business! Are we asking them if they like fucking their wife in the ass? Are we asking those same wifes if they like having their husband's cocks deep in their throat? We don't care! Plus, fuck them if they find us disgusting; thinking about pussy repulse us too! Or do you think that what you and I share, do together, is an abomination? Is me touching you awful?"

"No, of course not", the strangled voice established.

"Good. Because fucking men is as good as it'll ever get for us. Even if we wanted to -which we don't- we couldn't change what makes us hard, what makes us happy."

"I know. It's just… it's hard to know that you are not loved."

"But you are. Justin, you are."

Even in the interior darkness, Justin could see the seriousness and love in Brian beautiful eyes. Besides, even if he couldn't, he would still feel it waving from the warm body.

"Make love to me" pleaded the young man.

And Brian did as asked, not pretending or brushing off, as usual, that Brian Kinney did not make love. Because he actually did make love plenty of times, and tonight his partner needed him to show him how much loved he was. Brian knew his love could never replace Craig's, but fuck him if he wasn't going to try.

Once they both came Justin burst into a tired cry. He was exhausted, drained from the situation. The lovemaking might have satisfied some parts of him, others were still wide awake and bleeding. Feeling loved by Brian made him even more aware of the lack of love he had received from the father he had just irrevocably lost. Knowing the blond, the adman knew that he, somehow, felt guilty to have felt pleasure with his lover. When your dad dies you are not supposed to have sex and enjoy it; and when your homophobic prick of a father dies you are not supposed to have sex with your male lover. Well, fuck that shit. When Brian heard the news of his father's death he was in the fucking middle of a threesome and kept at it all night. Fuck Jack Kinney and fuck Craig Taylor, and the best way to fuck them to hell is to exactly do so: fuck.

Brian held him and Justin automatically burrowed into him and placed his face in the crook of the older man's neck. Brian could feel the wetness against his skin and tried to calm his lover by rubbing his back and almost rocking him to sleep.

"Ssshh, that's it. It's alright, go to sleep. I'm here, I'm here. I'm not leaving. Ssshh".

Exhaustion finally took Justin into a troubled sleep till morning.


	7. Will you be there?

_**Chapter 6: Will you be there?**_

_ NYC, Day 2_

* * *

_"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."_  
_ C.S. Lewis_

* * *

In NY, they had their little routine. Every morning started the same way: a nice long morning fuck to slowly wake up, a stretching of their sore and quite numbs limbs while getting out of bed. While Brian would unpack and prepare his outfit for the day, Justin would quickly shower. They would meet halfway in the tiny living room/ kitchen with Brian on his way to the bathroom and Justin on his way to the bedroom. They would bump each other's shoulder or give the other a peck on the lips. As the warm water would be gliding on his lover's body, Justin would start the coffee machine and rapidly leave his apartment, cross the street and buy the newspaper and would be back just as Brian exited the bathroom. They would take their breakfast in a comfortable silence, Brian going through the business pages and Justin reading the art section. The blond man never bought the newspaper when Brian wasn't there. He didn't need to read about the shitty things happening in the shitty world. This domestic little routine was the only predictable thing they did in NY. It was almost as if they were playing an act; a mockery of a hetero marriage. But you could be sure that once the day really started, it was always spent in a very unpredictable and fun way. They never planned anything. In New York, there was always something to do. So, sometimes they would just stay in and fuck all day and all night, sometimes they would go shopping or they'd visit a museum or just walk around town. They would go out and check out bars and clubs or Brian would reluctantly indulge Justin and go to some show. It wasn't happening often though. NY or no NY, Brian Kinney was Brian Kinney and he was not going to spend his weekends with Justin watching movies or going to a show. They would fuck and explore town. They would laugh and Justin would always try to include his partner in his new life. He would show him his work place, his favorite view or would bring him to his favorite bar or his favorite spot in the park.

That morning, though, none of those things happened. Brian woke up in an empty bed and found Justin sitting in an old tee shirt and sweat pants at the kitchen table, doing nothing.

Without a word Brian prepared some coffee, resisting the urge to look at his young lover. Once he was done, he sat at the table for two in front of Justin. The blond did not move or talk. Actually he didn't even look at Brian. He kept staring at nothing.

"When's the funeral?"

Justin suddenly seemed to notice his presence and turned his head and looked at him. He said in a tired voice:

"I don't know if I'm going."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Surely, he wouldn't want me there."

"Who cares what he would have wanted? This is about you, what's right for _you."_

"Did it help you, to go to your father's funeral?"

"Not really. I told goodbye to that son of a bitch my own way."

Justin was pensive. "I don't know if I could stand there with all those people who don't want me in their lives, all of them knowing what my dad thought of me."

"Like I said, fuck what they want. If you want to go, then go. You'll regret it otherwise."

Justin seemed lost in thought, weighing his options.

"Will you be there?" He asked, worry evident in his voice.

"I'll be there."

With this one sentence Brian brought his support and Justin relaxed. Brian would be there, so everything would be alright.


	8. The old black

**_Chap__ter 7 : The old black. _**

_ NYC, Day 2_

* * *

Justin made some more phone calls to his mother and to Daphne. When Justin had his friend on the phone, he left the room. It seemed strange and yet so normal that Justin wouldn't want Brian to hear what he would say to his friend. He still hoped Justin wasn't ashamed of his pain. At least, if he wasn't going to talk about it with him, Brian was glad he would to Daphne.

They discussed about the plane arrangements and what Justin would need to do before leaving town and what he would have to do once in Pittsburg. He didn't have anything suitable for a funeral. Strangely, when they buried Vic, Justin didn't bother wondering what clothes were appropriate or nice enough. Back then it didn't seem to matter. Vic would have probably been fine with him going naked or in club clothing. Actually, he'd certainly have loved it. But Justin didn't think he could do that at his father's funeral. It seemed wrong somehow, and he sure as hell didn't want to draw attention to him. His mere presence would probably cause enough whispering.

So they bought some pants and a black shirt. Justin never wore black. He would probably throw away the outfit after the funeral.


	9. Diversion

_**Chapter 8: Diversion**_

_New York City, Day2_

* * *

_A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book. _

_Irish Proverb_

* * *

The two men were sitting next to each other on a stool at some gay bar. They didn't care for the ambiance or the men. They were not there for that. They came for the strong booze. Brian was more than offended to discover that Justin had none at his place. The first time the adman came to NY he had made sure to stock the place with his favorite scotch. Where did it go? Apparently Justin had had some company, because it really wasn't his habit to drink on his own.

Justin interrupted the silence.

"I have to call my boss."

"Okay."

"Do you know if there are some documents or stuff to give him to prove why I'm leaving?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know; maybe the newspaper announcement or something."

"Won't he trust you without them?"

"I don't know. But I can't be too sure. I like this job. The pay is fine and I can pretty much choose my schedule. I like working the evenings so I can spend the day discovering the town and enjoy the light if I want to draw. Really, he's pretty cool."

"So you shouldn't have any problem. Plus, it's illegal to fire you because you have to go to your father's funeral. You have the right to take a few days off."

"Yeah, but this is New York. People are lining up for jobs like mine.

"Really?" Brian's voice was dripping with disbelief.

"What? Being a receptionist isn't good enough?"

"Not what I said. It's just you can find that kinda of job anywhere."

"Maybe, but the hostel is fine and the boss is fair. You don't get a job with a real contract everywhere, trust me. I had enough difficulties to find this one. I have a friend who works ten hours straight in a restaurant and don't even get a break. She doesn't have any contract, so if she refuses she'll get fired. The worst thing is that you have dozens of people willing to take her job. It's ridiculous, really, because it's a nice restaurant with a good clientele and the tips she makes are sometimes more than her pay. And it's the same with the landlords. The money they ask you for a month rent is astronomical, especially when you see the awful places people live in."

"Like yours, you mean?"

"Mock me, but yeah, like mine. Well, Sarah, the waitress, lives in an even smaller apartment and she pays more."

"Wouldn't this friend be a bit naïve?"

"She's not. I discovered that early. She's smart. She has a bachelor's degree from a good college. But she lives in a better neighborhood than me. New York is so expensive."

"Look … are you doing okay? Because you know…"

"I know." smiled Justin. "And if I need anything, I'll ask. But right now I don't. I saved up enough money from "Rage at Hollywood" and I still get the monthly sales from the comic. My job pays well enough so I can afford this place. I just can't do extras like clubbing or paying myself some studio time."

"So you still don't paint?"

"I work on my computer a lot, to prepare canvases, but I can't do more than that right now. I can't afford the supplies and I don't have enough space here to store them anyway. But I might have found something. There is an art studio not too far away. I applied to be an assistant. I'll have to set the easels and cleaned up a bit before and after every lesson. It's a private center where they give art classes. It wouldn't pay well, but I could choose to be paid in studio time and store my paintings over there. That's what they told me."

"Have you heard from them yet?"

"No, but I know there is a waiting list so I try not to get too much hope. Jobs like that are really rare and you have a lot of competition because of all the art students and other artists living in NY. I guess living in Pittsburg had some advantages."

"Less competition?"

"Yeah, and more affordable rent. I pay more for my crappy apartment than for the place I had back home. And it was bigger and with lots of light."

"It was crappy too."

"Hey, I liked it."

"I never understood how you could be fine in such extremes. I know you have a taste for luxury as much as I do, still you can live in such lousy apartments like this one and be fine with it."

"I don't know. I guess I don't really care for money. I like the fact that with it you can afford some luxury. It's not really the material things I'm talking about, but it's that when you have money, you are more independent, freer to do what you want. I don't really care for money and success, but it'll be nice to have my work recognized and appreciated, and to be able to live from it. I don't need to be like some of those well-off artists. I just want to be able to afford good supplies and do what I like for a living. The rest is bonus, really. I don't particularly enjoy living in such a small place, but I'm fine with it because it's not what matters."

"You have other priorities."

"Exactly."

Brian smiled at him; a tender and kind of proud smile. It pleased Justin.

"It never killed anyone to live in a crammed place."

"Actually it did. Does. Living with rats or with lead or asbestos in the wall can make you sick and kill you."

"Brian! Don't say things like that!"

"Well, it's true."

"But not at my place! I don't have rats or stuff in my walls!"

"You sure?"

"Shit, Brian, I won't be able to sleep there now!"

"I'm just saying. Did your landlord say anything?"

"I … I don't remember."

"Christ, Justin!"

"I was so excited and relieved to have found something. Living with Daphne's friend – or should I say acquaintance - had to come to an end."

"Oh, you mean the vampire?"

Justin shivered at the memory. "Don't call her that. She was not a vampire."

"No? You said she was always dressed in black with a lot of make-up and…"

"She was a Goth, yeah. "

"And she was only living at night, right?"

"Yeah."

"So she was a vampire."

"You know I don't believe in that stuff, but after living with her, I'm seriously more inclined to believe in it."

"Well, I'm glad you are not waking me up in the middle of the night anymore, because you're scared of a girl."

"She was watching me sleep! It was creepy! Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and see her face so close to yours," Justin moved closely to Brian's face, with big eyes and hands moving nervously, " her eyes staring at you."

"It was creepy, I'm telling you. Maybe she did want to suck my blood." shuddered the young man.

"Or suck something else." Chuckled the older man.

"Brian! Oh gross, gross, gross. Now I really won't be able to sleep." Responded the blond, grimacing and shuddering.

"Poor Sunshine."

"Stop making fun of me! She was scary!"

"Yeah, I remember you whispering 'Brian, Brian it's me. I..I can't sleep. She's scaring me. She's watching me in my sleep. Oh, Brian talk to me, I don't like being all alone.'" added Brian with a small girly frightened voice.

"I don't sound like that! And I never said, I … you know what, never mind. You'll stop making fun of me the day it happens to you."

"Huh, it did… need I remind you that you are creepy too?"

"ME? " Exclaimed the blond in a way too high-pitched voice for his taste.

"Yeah, you! How many times did I wake up with you staring at me?"

"It's different."

"Of course, when you are the one doing it, it's different." Brian said shaking his head.

"It is. We are together. We share the same bed. We sleep together. I _wasn't_ sleep with her. I wasn't her boyfriend or anything. Shit, she knew I'm gay. But I'm telling you, she was weird." He stated firmly.

"Well, finding out you've been drawing me in my naked state while I was sleeping can be considered creepy too."

"It's not creepy, it's art."

Brian exploded in a loud laugh.

"Oh, Justin!" He grabbed the blond's head and kissed soundly Justin's forehead.

_"Anyway, _I could kill Daph. 'Oh, you'll see, she's a bit different from your usual friends, but she's really nice and she won't bother you at all.' " he continued, offering an exaggerated and sarcastic imitation of Daphne.

"What a crock of shit! So yeah, during the day she wasn't bothering me at all, as she was sleeping, probably locked in her coffin. But shit, at night… I don't mind Goth, but she was such a cliché. I'm pretty sure she wasn't even Daphne's friend. She didn't seem to know anything about me or her. And her place was so dark. The walls were paint in black and there were black curtains draping the windows. I couldn't see anything, less work. But she was a good cook."

"And you didn't marry her?"

"Fuck you!" Justin said playfully bumping Brian's shoulder.

"How did we get to talk about that anyway? I don't even remember what we were talking about at first."

"Good." Said Brian seriously.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Want to blow me?" He folded his lips in his mouth, then made the word 'blow' pop.

"Why don't _you_ blow _me_ for a change?"

"My! You know how to make a guy feel special."

"I know, I learned that from you." Smirked Justin.

Mission accomplished for Brian; he had completely distracted Justin and turned around his mood. He would remember soon enough, thought the older man. That was the last thought to enter his mind before he grabbed Justin and pulled him out of the bar. They went back to Justin's dive, where Brian applied himself and gave his lover the blowjob of his life.

* * *

_A/N: _ I just wanted to say that I -and the characters- do not mean any disrespect to Goth culture or Goths. My purpose here was to create some comic relief by playing with the clichés we've all heard about Goths, clichés that Justin's former roommate was apparently full of. I know that Goth culture is far more profound and interesting than most people think.


	10. Where did his innocence go?

_**Chapter 9: Where did his innocence go?**_

_Pittsburg, The Loft, Night 2_

* * *

_There is no aphrodisiac like innocence._  
_Jean Baudrillard_

_All things truly wicked start from innocence._  
_Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

They packed and took a plane in the evening. They'd spend the night at the loft and the next morning Justin would join his mother and grandmother's to the funeral home. He didn't really understand why he had to go there. He certainly didn't want to choose a coffin. He didn't even think his opinion would matter. But his mother asked him if he could come and Justin wasn't about to let his mum alone with his bigot of a grandmother. He hadn't seen her in years. The last time was probably before his father threw him out of the house.

When he entered the loft for the first time in months, Justin hesitated. It was stupid really, because it was not the first time he'd been at the loft, still they were there now, Brian bringing the luggage to his room and him staying by the door. Brian was presently staring at him from the top of the stairs, and then he slowly walked down the few steps and gave Justin a small soft smile.

"Afraid to come in?"

"No… I guess, I kinda am. Stupid right?" sighed the artist.

Brian understood very well what Justin meant. He felt that way sometimes too. It was even more ridiculous for him, as it was his own loft. But at times he dreaded crossing the threshold. It was pathetic, he knew that, but he couldn't help thinking about the fact that once again he was coming back to an empty home. But fuck if he was going to tell Justin that. As always he opted for humor:

"Well, you're not seventeen and a virgin anymore, don't be afraid of the big bad wolf." he said with this big seductive smile of his.

Justin snorted. But it did the trick. He went to the kitchen and sat on a stool as Brian retrieved two beers from the fridge.

They sipped their drinks for a moment, and then Justin broke the silence:

"I always wanted to ask you…"

Brian raised his eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

"How come you fucked me, even though you knew I was seventeen and a virgin?"

Justin never quite understood why Brian, who was so experienced and older, and who could have anyone, accepted to fuck an inexperienced and terrified kid, taking the risk to be hugely disappointed and frustrated, instead of bringing home a sure, reliable good fuck.

Brian took a moment before answering. He wasn't sure how to explain it to Justin. Actually, he wasn't sure he entirely understood it himself. He could tell the blond that it was the excitement of fresh meat, the thrill of the unknown, the primitive desire he felt knowing he would be the first one to taste him, the attraction of his innocence, the need to kiss goodbye the boredom that was invading his sex life, or he could just tell him he was fucked up out of his mind and that a fuck is a fuck. Finally he settled for:

"Like you said that night, everyone has the right to get fucked. And who could have given you the best time of your life if not me?"

"So it was out of pure generosity?"

"Precisely." Brian affirmed with his best grin.

Justin stared at him for a few seconds. This man was full of shit. Always was, always will.

"You're full of shit!" laughed the young man.

Brian couldn't prevent the corners of his mouth from lifting up a bit. Time had passed. Quickly. Too quickly perhaps. Justin was certainly nothing like the kid he had taken home that fateful night anymore. When he had met Justin, the blond had been so young, innocent, willing, endearing. He squealed like a kid, blushed like a kid and was so disposed to please. He made Brian feel young.

Now, Justin was a man. However, sometimes he would get a glimpse of the innocent youthful optimistic twat lost somewhere in his partner; just from a word or an expression. But, what Brian saw very early on, and what had been proved time and time again, is that Justin was the strongest, most resilient person he had ever met, and every day Brian fell in love with him all over again.


	11. Any man can be a father

_**Chapter 10: "Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy".**_

_Pittsburg, The Loft, Night 2_

* * *

_My father taught me to be independent and cocky and free thinking, but he could not stand it if I disagreed with him. _

_ Sara Maitland_

* * *

He still didn't get much sleep that first night at the loft. Everything felt strange to Justin; strange, yet still familiar. Like in New York cars were passing loudly in the streets, but the background noises sounded different to his ear. It didn't take a genius to know it was because of the acoustic, the big space and the general setting of the loft, so much different from the ones the dive he was presently living in offered him.

The vehicles passing beneath the windows used to lull him to sleep; their humming familiar and comforting. Now, even though some parts of the blond's brain still recognized the sounds and associated them with some sense of familiarity, the artist couldn't shake off this unsettling feeling that it was simply _different_.

The buzzing of the fridge penetrated the bedroom. Justin knew that sound. He remembered falling asleep to it so many times he lost count. Brian's breathing. He knew it by heart: the exhalation, the inhalation. The wrestling against the tangled sheet as his lover changed position. Nevertheless, he wasn't used to sleep with him any longer. It felt weird. Everything felt so weird that first night.

Justin had all the knowledge, all his marks here in the Pitts, in the loft, beside Brian. Everything was exactly like when he had left seven months ago and then again, it was troubling as he compared it to what composed his new surroundings in New York. When had he stopped comparing NYC to the Pitts and started comparing Pittsburg to the Big Apple?

All it took was seven months. Just seven ridiculous months and his perception, his habits had changed. In the semi-darkness, he couldn't help but wonder how much time would suffice before he got used to having a dead dad?

XXXX

XXXX

He spent half the night sitting in bed staring at the blinds. He wasn't even watching through the panels and windows. No, he was watching the blinds themselves. Sometimes some movement would distract him and he would turn his gaze on his beautiful partner sleeping next to him. Brian was exhausted. He had been keeping an eye on Justin for the past two days, never leaving him out of sight and unsuccessfully trying to be discrete. He hadn't had much sleep.

In the morning, Justin would meet his mum and grandmother and choose a coffin for his dad. He would have to select the music, the food they would eat. He would see his dad. His father's body -a corpse. He knew all that, but strangely, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. Everything seemed so unreal. It had felt unreal from the moment he had seen his lover standing in front of his door. It was like a dream, Brian surprising him just to "be with him". The dream had turned into a nightmare Justin couldn't wake up from.

He was too young to be doing all this. Yet, he was lucky. His sister was even younger. She was just a kid, not even the same age Justin was when he first lost his dad.

At seventeen Justin had lost his dad. At almost twenty-three he lost his father.

In his mind, it made a difference. A genitor is not a parent. Genitors give up their role. Parents embrace them. They educate and they love. Justin had a dad for seventeen years and then, he only had a father whose name he shared. That was it for him. But his sister, she still had a dad. And that made Justin sad and angry. At her, because she had what he didn't. At his dad, because the man had differentiated the love he was offering his two kids and forced Justin to discover the difference between a dad and a father. He was upset at fate, God or Mother Earth for making him feel that way; conflicted, lost. If only he could sort out what he was feeling. If only he could choose and stick to one emotion only. His thoughts were racing in his head. He couldn't find any peace, even in the quiet of the loft with his lover silently sleeping at his side.

XXXX

XXXX

When the shadows were replaced by the morning light, Brian woke up to an empty loft. Justin had already left for his mum's. He had made coffee and unpacked Brian's bag.


	12. A WASP world

_**Chapter 11: A WASP world **_

_Pittsburg, Day 3_

* * *

_I don't have to attend every argument I'm invited to. _

_Author Unknown_

* * *

Justin spent the day at the funeral house and at his grandmother's. He was extremely uncomfortable, so was his mum. All those years and it was at a moment like this that his grandmother remembered they even existed. When Justin was a kid, he thought that his mother and her in-laws got along very well. There were diners and brunches and even holidays together. It's only after the divorce that things appeared to be strained between Jennifer and her mother-in-law. Justin didn't really try to understand, he dismissed it as a woman thing; at least consciously. Deep inside, he couldn't help but blame himself. It took him some time to finally accept that his relatives got along because of the circumstances. When everything between his parents was fine or at least seemed to be, everything was well in the happily never ending WASP world. They were the poster family for traditional successful households. But as soon as Jennifer held her ground, left her husband and joined the Liberty Avenue crowd, the war was declared. His grandma blamed her ex-daughter-in-law for not seen her granddaughter more often -strangely she never complained about not seen her grandson-, as if Jennifer was purposefully keeping Molly away –no one could blame Jennifer for that-, she blamed Justin for keeping bad company –even though she never met any of them- and for bringing his mother into a bad circle that would negatively influenced her and Molly…

So, when Justin got stuck at his grandparents' house with his mother, he didn't complain. He didn't really care for them or their opinion; though he was sorry they had to bury their only son. He and his mother let his grandmother validate every decision. It wasn't really their place to decide any longer anyway. He was there to support his mother, nothing more; his mother who strangely was supposed to lead her ex-husband to his final resting place. Why wasn't his girlfriend doing that?

Justin would never understand all the ropes behind the WASP world.

XXXX  
XXXX

When he came back to the loft, Brian was already there, working on his laptop. He lay down on the bed. He was drained. But when Brian offered to go out, see the guys and relax around a drink, the blond accepted without a thought. He'll have plenty of time to rest once the funeral was over. Something good had to come out of that hellish situation; something like sleeping in the same bed than his partner and hanging out with some friends.


	13. A break with friends

**_Chapter 12: A break with friends _**

_Pittsburg, Woody's, Night 3_

* * *

_Even if happiness forgets you a little bit, never completely forget about it. _

_Jacques Prévert_

* * *

Back on Liberty Avenue, they made their way to the bar, walking side by side, like old times. Justin was a bit stressed and at the same time impatient to see everybody. He hadn't seen any of them since he had left Pittsburg seven months prior. He talked a little bit on the phone with Michael about Rage but apart from him, Debbie and Brian, he only had spoken to Lindsey. They made it to the stairs and Brian actually opened and held the door for him. That was a first!

Brian and Justin entered Woody's and Justin's lungs, eyes, ears and nostrils filled up with delicious sensations. Cheap beer, friendly chatters, colorful clothing… home.

They saw the gang sitting at a table and Brian looked at his partner, waiting for his silent permission. Justin headed towards the table. They were all there, cheerfully talking and laughing and… stopping all at the same time when they saw them approaching. So much for a discrete arrival, thought Justin.

They all gave enthusiastic "Hey Bri, hi Justin", "Nice to see you".

"Hey sweetie!" exclaimed Emmett. He got off his stool, held out his arms in a wide gesture and engulfed Justin's smaller frame in them. "It's so good to see you. I was so sorry to hear about your dad". Then he gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek. Justin responded with a shy smile, very touched by Emmett's display of affection.

From there on it was a mix of "my condolences, sorry, how are you, if you need anything…" lost in the surrounding laughter of the other patrons. Justin thanked his friends, affirming he was doing fine but could use a beer. They all give him a sympathetic smile and Ben went to order more drinks with Blake.

Brian brought two more seats and proceeded to take his jacket off while Justin gave him his best smile, appreciating the gentleman who seemed to be his date for the night. They sat next to each other.

XXXX  
XXXX

Justin tried to start some conversation, not really knowing how to begin and most importantly with whom. It was strange for the blond to be there. He hadn't been in Woody's since Brian's stag party and was shocked to see that the gang was yet composed with so many members, they needed two tables and still had to have their seats close to each other to fit. Apparently no one minded. He glanced rapidly to each and everyone and noticed that except for Emmett, they were all in a relationship. Justin found it extremely natural to see Blake again, as if he always had been a part of the group. In a way he had. He was already there years ago when Justin was still Brian's boy toy.

Rapidly they broke into small conversation groups, but weirdly it seemed they were still all able to hear and participate to a more general banter. Justin caught up with most of them. It was good to talk about something else than coffins and death and disappointing fathers. Sometimes though, a conversation would die down and black thoughts would creep their way in. Though Brian would appear to be completely lost in a talk with some of the guys, he would seem to be sensing the change and would bring his hand to Justin's back and rub it in small soothing circles or squeeze his thigh in a comforting way. Justin would look at him and see that Brian's head was turned opposite to him. The young artist didn't know how Brian did it, how he could sense his need –and to be honest he didn't care at the moment- and was yet again amazed by his lover's attention. He decided to enjoy the loving gestures, for the time being, not knowing when it would cease.

XXXX  
XXXX

When a pool table was freed, Emmett jumped out of the stool, almost knocking it over on the floor, clapping his hands and exclaiming happily "Wooh, pool table! Let's go! But me first!" He hopped to the other part of the bar, oblivious to his clumsiness and to Ben who almost fell down when he dove on the side to catch Emmett's stool, preventing it from clattering on the floor. Soon the guys joined him and Michael called them:

" Guys, you coming?"

Brian looked at Justin who shook his head.

"Maybe later." Brian responded to his friend.

"Okay."

"You can go. I don't mind. Really." Justin protested, not wanted his lover to miss on an occasion to have some fun. It annoyed him to be no fun to Brian. He worried his partner took his care giver role too seriously and forgot to take some time off.

"I'd like to finish my beer." shrugged said partner.

But the kiss on the side of the forehead he gave to Justin betrayed his true intentions. The young man was not used to this Brian, especially not in a public place. Brian could French kiss and fuck anywhere but he would not hold hands and be gentle if he could prevent it. The only exception maybe being Babylon, where the dancing and darkness and alcohol-and-drugs induced mind could make him more receptive.

XXXX  
XXXX

The rest of the night unfolded nicely and it was already time to go to bed. The guys all said goodbye, Emmett and Ted kissing and hugging Justin, Ben clapping gently his shoulder, Blake not really knowing what to do, giving him a shy smile and a nod. Brian and Michael hugged each other tightly and soon everyone was going their separate way.

The non-conventional couple walked to the 'vette.

"It was nice. It felt good to see everybody again."

"Yeah."

"They didn't act too weird. Which was weird." Chuckled Justin. "Did you ask them to act 'normal' around me?"

"Like they could act normal."

"So you did." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Brian was about to justify his request, not wanted to upset Justin, when he heard "Thanks. It made things easier." They exchanged small smiles and got in the car.


	14. Family, I love you Family, I hate you!

**_Chapter 13 : Family, I love you. Family, I hate you! _**

_Pittsburg, Day 4_

* * *

_When angry, count four; when very angry, swear. _

_Mark Twain_

* * *

"I'm going to kill her!" burst out Justin throwing his coat on the sofa and taking furiously his shoes off, only using his feet, which resulted in the shoes flying across the loft.

Brian watched silently, eyebrows arched, from his spot on the kitchen stool.

"ARGGG!" shouted the young man.

That was unusual. Justin was not the kinda of person to scream in frustration. Normally he would take it out on a sketchbook or make some snarky comment to Brian. At his worst, well, he would take it on some homophobic prick in the streets. But he wasn't wearing any pink at the moment.

"I guess your day didn't go well."

"What gave me away?" Justin sarcastically answered.

"The shoes. It was a bit too much."

Justin threw him a death glare. A twat. A twat throwing a tantrum; just what Brian had requested for dinner. When the adman saw that the blond wasn't going to elaborate, he gathered his courage and asked:

"So, are you going to tell me what the evil grandmother did this time?"

Justin breathed heavily, staring at his lover. He seemed to try to calm down.

"She… she… I don't even know why I'm mad. She acted like she always does. It's just… it pisses me off to waste my time trying to be nice and helpful, because she couldn't care less. I could do other stuff, like spend time with you, instead of just standing in her way. But no, I don't get to get away. But I don't get to do anything either. It's like she's trying to punish me or something. She'd ask for my opinion, not even pretending to listen to my answer, just so that she can tell me that everything is already decided. Mum is furious too. Apparently, my grandmother had already planned half the funeral the first day. She didn't even need us today, like _at all_. As for yesterday? None of our suggestions were taken in consideration. And she had the nerve to blame me for not being there the first two days. According to her, I was too busy "having fun in NY with my boyfriend or who knows who" to care to help immediately. Well, who could blame me for not coming home sooner when you know I had to deal with that bitch!"

Brian was quite startled. Not by the outburst, but by the name calling. No matter how tense Justin's relationship with his family was, he never insulted any of them. Brian could not blame him. He knew far too well how quickly you could lose your mind dealing with your relatives, especially in a stressful situation like a funeral. But Brian and Justin were different. Justin was nicer, more sensitive, more optimistic.

"Feel better?"

"Not really."

Brian nodded.

"What are you doing?" inquired the artist, slowly moving to stand next to the man.

"I was working on some speech for a new campaign."

"Sorry."

Brian shrugged. "It's fine, I'll finish it later. You hungry?" he slid his arm around Justin's waist.

"Not really."

Brian got up, kissed the forehead in front of him and moved around the counter, retrieving a joint from a pack of cigarettes.

"You eat a bit, then we smoke, then you eat some more. Deal?"

Justin was too tired to fight. Who would have thought Brian would turn into an Italian mother?

"If you eat with me." He agreed.


	15. All right, then, I'll go to hell

A/N: Even as an atheist, I can never keep myself from wondering about the possibility of an Afterlife every time I lose someone. I thought that it would be interesting and natural for Justin and Brian to wonder about it too. Through the series, the question of religion has been raised. It seemed to me that even though their position on the topic was never explicitly formulated, Brian and Justin were not repulse by the idea of God, religion and faith itself, but by the people using them and modeling them to match their own personal opinions and vendetta.**  
**

Of course, feel free to disagree with me. I just wanted to clear the air and assure you I do not mean any disrespect for any religion or believers. Yes, I've been raised in an atheistic home, but I've been taught to respect everyone's beliefs, even though I may not necessarily share them.**  
**

That been said, here is chapter 14. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 14: All right, then, I'll go to hell. **( _Mark Twain)_

_Pittsburg, Night 4_

* * *

_Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company. _

_Mark Twain_

_I don't like to commit myself about heaven and hell - you see, I have friends in both places._

_ Mark Twain_

* * *

At the loft, after a fantastic joint, the couple was lying down next to each other on the living room's rug, not touching.

"Do you believe in Heaven?" Brian looked at him. "Do you?" repeated the blond.

"I don't fucking know."

"How can you not know? You do or you don't. It's that simple."

"For me, it's not. I've been taught to believe in all that shit by Saint old Joan and despite the fact that I hate it all, it seems I still can't get rid of it."

Justin looked his partner in awe.

"I know; that was some kind of a speech. Wasn't it?"

"You asked." He explained when he saw that Justin was still looking at him with curiosity.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect such a… sincere response. I think it's the same for me. Somehow I always wanted it to be true, you know? Like when I lost my dog or my granny. I wanted to be able to see them again. I felt better when my mum told me that they were in Heaven, happy and waiting for me to be reunited once again. She told me they'd be watching over me, that I'd never be alone. Now, it creeps me out to think that my dad could see me, like he could be watching us right now; judging, disapproving."

"You really think your dad would watch us? What are we, a football game or something?" Brian seemed to be thinking it over. "I guess it'd be cool to have our own fans back there, getting their kick out of us fucking."

"_Not_ what I was thinking!" laughed the fair-haired man.

"Well, if Father Taylor is indeed in Heaven and wants to see his son getting fucked, let give him the big show. Let's go to the Baths and…"

"Brian!" laughed Justin "You are so…"

"Charming? Amazing? Horny?" cut the taller man, purring in Justin's ears. "Yes, I'm all that M. Taylor."

"I'm M. Taylor now, aren't I?" stated seriously and quietly the young man.

For a second, Brian stared at him with a sad expression, but snapped out of it right away.

"Hmm, I guess you always were, but I see what you mean."

"So you think if there were to be a Heaven my dad would be there? Not in Hell or something?"

"I can't tell you that, because fuck if I know a lot of people who think they'll go to Heaven even though I sure as hell don't think they deserve it. But, if it's what makes you feel better, I think that's what you should think."

"Yeah. He wasn't such a bad man, you know. I mean, he did some stupid hurtful things to me, you and my mum, but he was appreciated by a lot of people. They were plenty of flowers at the funeral house. But I don't know. I kinda want him to be in peace and would like to see him again, but does it really matter? Because if I believe in all that, it means I'll be going to Hell."

"That Justin," Brian told in the most convinced voice he had ever used in his life, "that Justin, I don't believe. You are the most amazing and loving person I know. No one would be more deserving to go to Heaven. They'll be lucky to have you there." he added in a more teasing tone to counterbalance the heavy emotional statement, though he was still extremely serious. He meant it all.

"But I'm gay."

"So what, you're gay?"

"A lot of religious people say that gay people will go to Hell because of the unnatural acts they engage into." explained Justin.

"If you believe you'll go to Hell because you do 'unnatural things' "Brian quoted with his fingers, "well then, Hell is full of people, because trust me, it's not only gay men who do "unnatural" things in bed."

"How can you be so sure if you don't even…"

"Look, if _you _go to Hell, you can be certain I'll be there and we'll have a great time! We'll fuck through eternities and I'm sure they have plenty of orgies going down there. Actually it sounds better than boring Heaven. What do you think? Should we sign up before they're booked?"

Justin was amazed by this man and was laughing so hard his stomach hurt. He was going to pee himself. But no matter where his dad was, no matter what people said, all Justin knew was that he just wanted to be with Brian in this life and all the others to come.


	16. The funeral

**Chapter 15 : The funeral **

_Pittsburg, Day 5_

* * *

_"The tears I feel today_  
_I'll wait to shed tomorrow._  
_Though I'll not sleep this night_  
_Nor find surcease from sorrow._  
_My eyes must keep their sight:_  
_I dare not be tear-blinded._  
_I must be free to talk_  
_Not choked with grief, clear-minded._  
_My mouth cannot betray_  
_The anguish that I know._  
_Yes, I'll keep my tears till later:_  
_But my grief will never go."_

_Anne McCaffrey, Dragonsinger_

* * *

They were all reunited around the coffin and the fresh dug grave. There were quite a lot of people. They had been even more numerous at the church. The burying was supposed to be only family and close friends. Clearly, his father had been popular.

His dad's new girlfriend was quite elegant. She had a white handkerchief and was delicately wiping her tears. Justin had never met her before. She looked like a true WASP, very country club material, just like his dad liked. She was well surrounded, with people presenting her their condolences while others were trying to make things easier for her. He had studied her for a long time during the religious service. She knew all the prayers and stood with a perfect posture. Still, she didn't look frigid or cold or mean. Apparently Molly liked her. Was she supposed to be family? Was this stranger a member of his family? No, his real family was standing on his side of the coffin. His mother was right next to Molly, holding the young girl. Debbie was at Jennifer's side. Justin was in the back, behind people he had never seen in his life; behind his father's employees. Next to him were standing Daphne and Brian.

The minister was talking but all Justin could hear was a buzzing sound. It felt like it was night and he was all alone in a room so silent that his brain had to create some white noise in order for his ears to have something to do. He could see the lips moving. He could hear people coughing and his sister sniffling, but his brain couldn't register a word. It didn't really matter anyway. He knew what they were all saying: a good man, a respected businessman; a good father. Yeah, it was better that he didn't hear any of it. It would look really bad if he choked on that last statement. He was bitter. He hated being bitter. He deserved better. Even his dad deserved a better goodbye from his son. Except today, Justin couldn't give it to him.


	17. The women in our lives

A/N: Here is one of my favorite chapters. It came to me so naturally. I hope you'll like it.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The women in our lives **

_Pittsburg, Day 5. Craig Taylor's parents' house, after the funeral._

* * *

_Quiet and sincere sympathy is often the most welcome and efficient consolation to the afflicted. Said a wise man to one in deep sorrow, 'I did not come to comfort you; God only can do that; but I did come to say how deeply and tenderly I feel for you in your affliction'._

_Tyron Edwards_

* * *

"Hello, Jennifer."

"Hello, Brian."

"How are you holding up?"

Jennifer Taylor looked at him in surprise. It wasn't a question she was expecting to hear from Brian.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"How's Molly?"

Again, she was somehow taken aback. Brian had ended up being a caring man; it was astonishing. To be fair, Jennifer had realized that some time ago. Still, she couldn't help but offer the fine man in front of her a soft smile of appreciation.

"She's not doing well. She was close to her dad. At least she was until she started to be, well… a teenager."

Brian presented her a knowing look.

"She is still very young and to lose her father at her age, it's…" she trailed off. She paused and went on: "How's Justin?"

"You saw him."

"I did, but I'm asking you."

"He's doing okay, I guess. He'll need some time in order to get some closure and some peace of mind."

"You know him better than I do."

"I don't know…"

"It's not a reproach. It's normal. And I'm… glad. What you have is rare, I know that now. I'm happy he has you." To convince him of her sincerity, she locked eyes with him while setting a hand on his arm.

"Really." She insisted. "It's comforting to know he's not alone. I gave up a long time ago the need to be the only one for him; the one he would love the most, the one he could not live without, the one he would count on every single time, the one who knows him best. We are close in our own way." She paused for a second, letting them some time to digest her words. "And how about you, Brian?"

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"How are you doing?" She clarified.

"Good. Why?"

"Well, I don't know… you lost your father too, when you were still young…"

"I was 29."

"Still, it's young. Maybe it's bringing back memories."

"I didn't care for my dad." He counteracted.

"But you care for Justin. I know it must be hard for you to see him like this. I know it's hard for me." Jennifer expressed quietly.

Brian glanced over to where Justin was, standing next to a cousin or something. He looked tired and so uncomfortable. Justin was always so at-ease and yet, here, with his own relatives, he looked like he didn't belong.

"I spent more than twenty years with that man."

Brian turned his gaze back to her.

"_Twenty_ years. We met in college. Junior year. I have two beautiful kids with him. And now he's gone. But somehow it feels like I had already lost him a long time ago. He was gone to me the day I look at him and didn't see the man I once fell in love with. We all change through time, but it was like I never knew who he really was."

Then, some old lady came over and Brian used the interruption as a way out. He never would have imagined, even in his wildest dreams –or more correctly, nightmares- being at Craig's funeral, comforting Justin and his mother. It seemed that now, Jennifer Taylor was an ally, even some kind of a friend. She helped him buying the old Baths and to almost sell the loft; several times. She called _him_ first to tell him the news, trusted _him_ to tell _her _son about Craig's death. She trusted him to take care of him, again and again. She was disappointed that she wasn't officially his mother-in-law. How did any of this happen?

He went outside for a most welcome cigarette and was soon joined by Justin. He took the cigarette from Brian's hand and pulled a long puff. He had stopped smoking years before*. He had to be stressed.

"Molly refuses to talk to me."

Brian looked at him.

"She blames me. She blames me for dad, like I'm the one who gave him a heart attack. Apparently I brought him too much stress! I wasn't even a part of his life anymore! How could I still be fucking up his life while being far away from him, at his demand? She blames me for not seeing her more often, for having left the house too soon…" then he added in a whisper, "for bringing you here."

"She told you all that?"

"Yeah, I cornered her after she ignored me all day. She spat her venom like only the Taylors can. She said I was being disrespectful bringing you here, that they didn't need me bragging and coming with my _boyfriend"_, he said in a high pitched sarcastic voice, "that's the way she said it, like she was diminishing your status in my life. She said that since I didn't want to be her brother anymore that she was happy never seeing me again after today."

Justin's eyes were blurry, full of unshed tears.

His partner tried to put it back into perspective: "She didn't mean it. She's upset. She lost her dad. She doesn't know where to stand."

"But she's right. I neglected her. I was so hooked on being a teenager, being gay, being with you, being at PIFA and now being in NYC. I left home without a choice and she was still a kid, and then, after the bashing I was mean to her. I was out of control and after that I just didn't take the time to just be with her, to get to know her again. And now she's a teenager and of course she's rejecting everyone and god knows what my dad told her through the years about me and my _boyfriend..."_

"Give her some time, it'll get better."

"I think we already lost a lot of time. I need to do something now, before it's too late. I love my sister Brian. I don't want her to be one day like…"

"My sister."

"Hmm."

"You can say it, Justin." The young man looked at him, making sure he meant it.

"Yeah. I don't want her to believe I could do horrible things. I don't want her to tell her kids I'm perverted or something."

"Then she won't. If you want to develop a relationship with her, I know you will."

"You think?" Justin asked, scrunching his nose.

"No, I'm sure."

Brian gave him a small kiss, soon leaving his lips, but never breaking contact with his eyes.

"I could invite her to come to stay with me for a few days in NY. What's better for a teenager than shopping in the Big Apple?"

"Don't you wanna start with something… smaller? Like going to the movies? I'm not sure having your obnoxious little sister locked up with you in a flat as big as my elevator, all alone in a big city for several days, is a great idea."

"Au contraire, mon cher."

"Mon cher? " Chuckled Brian.

"Right, you prefer _mon amour_" teased Justin.

"Better than _mon cher_" confirmed Brian by kissing Justin again.

The blond gave him a small smile, before continuing:

"I think that's the only way. If she's stuck all alone with me in a strange new city, she'll have no other choice than to talk to me… at some point."

"Then do it. You know more about teenage girls than I do." declared Brian.

"Not sure."

They smiled at each other. They'd probably never understand women. Most people think that when you are a gay man it means that you automatically understand women better, but in their case, it was complete bullshit.

"I can still ask Daph if I need help. Though Daph was never like that. Except when she refused to talk to me when she thought she was in love with me. That was weird." He said, remembering the only time since they had met they stopped talking.

"Oh, little Daphne. Where is she anyway? I haven't hit on her yet. She looked amazing in that little black dress…"

"Stop it!" cut Justin, playfully swatting Brian on the arm, "stop hitting on my best _female_ friend, especially at my dad's funeral."

"So you prefer I hit on your _guy_ friends? Okay."

"Like I have any."

"Oh, poor little Justin, playing all alone in the sand box." mocked the tall man.

"Shut it already. What's up with you today? You're cracking jokes every twenty seconds."

"I hate funerals." shrugged Brian.

"Who doesn't." absent-mindedly added the artist.

They were silent a moment, Justin lost in thoughts and Brian measuring the heaviness weighing on his lover's shoulders. Finally he asked:

"You doing okay?" Concern could be heard in the older man's voice.

"I'm fine." replied Justin, giving a sincere small smile. "Thanks for asking." He added softly.

"Anytime." Was the whispered answer.

Following that word they were lost in each other's eyes, until Debbie called:

"Sunshine?"

Justin turned to look at her.

"Your mother and I are leaving. Do you guys want to come with us to your mum's condo?"

"Hmm… I don't know. If you leave, Brian and I will go too, but I don't know… Mum must be tired and…"

"Why don't you ask her if she wants you there? If not, you can still follow us and go inside to grab some food. I cooked her some of my specialties, so she doesn't have to worry about feeding your sister."

Justin looked fondly at the red-haired woman. She really was a second mother to him, and apparently to his own mother.

"Thank you, Debbie. I will."

Then, on an impulse, he held her, burying his head in her neck.

"Thank you." He added in a strangled voice.

"No biggy." she said.

Brian and Debbie exchanged a look full of worry and pain, caring so much for this young man who was silently crying in her arms.

She soothed him with motherly words that sounded so wrong and so good at the same time.

"It's okay, honey. Everything is going to be okay, Sunshine. You're all going to be okay, you'll see."

* * *

*_A/N:_I have noticed that Justin did not seem to be smoking after season 3. Also, I think he wasn't really a smoker, only sharing a cigarette then and there with Daphne, or taking a drag from Brian. Feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong.


	18. The need to feel

**Chapter 17: The need to feel**

_ Night 5, last night at the loft_

* * *

_Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys_

_Alphonse de Lamartine_

* * *

Justin had to leave the next day. He had just buried his father a few hours ago and now, he was packing to go back to the City. Alone. He knew it wouldn't be long before he saw Brian again. Christmas was coming soon. He still had to see with his boss if he would work on Christmas' Eve or Christmas day -as he was one of the newest employees, he didn't get to choose his holidays- but he was pretty sure he could get a few days, especially considering the present circumstances. Still, it was hard to have to say goodbye. Again. Sometimes it was so hard he preferred not to see Brian. He would rather have to go through the pain of craving for his partner than to have him next to him, and then have him gone as soon as he's gotten used to seeing and touching him.

When he climbed to bed that night, he was completely crestfallen. His day had been awful. Mostly he had just been there, standing, a blank look in the eye. It was exactly like in some movies when you have the protagonist in the middle of a room, rooted to the spot, the camera capturing the stillness of the main subject while the background changes rapidly; people moving along quickly, the motion creating a blur while the character seems unable to do anything. This day had been a blur for Justin. Nevertheless some moments were actually captured by his brain. At some points he had felt awake. But this day did not feel actually real to him. The cemetery, the service, the meal at the house, the people talking to him, all those things happened; he was certain of it. He knew he had been there, but it felt like it all happened to someone else. He had left his body that day and watched the moments unfolding themselves like an external observer. It was the same feeling you get when you wake up from a drunken state and do not remember everything. People tell you, you see pictures, videos, but you don't feel like it happened to you, like it was really you. It was not as bad as Prom though. Justin did remember today. How come he could remember one of the worst days of his life but did not have the right to remember the best?

XXX

He settled into bed and soon Brian joined him. He lay close to the blond. Brian had one hand on Justin's back, pinning him efficiently on his side. Justin had one arm circling the taller man's waist and one hand moving through the brown hair while kissing delicately the tanned collarbone. He needed to show this man how grateful he was that he had been there today. And the days before that.

They stayed like that for a while. As Justin placed his head on Brian's shoulder, the older man stroked his lover's back softly. They needed to sleep, wanted to sleep. But they were too troubled.

Justin was the first one to break the silence.

"I remember when your dad died. You came to the diner and sat down behind the guys. They were talking about going to a movie and you said you couldn't join them. They made a stupid joke about your family and then you said your dad had died. You were so matter-of-factly. It was a fact, but still you looked so detached. I said I was sorry but you brushed me off and I knew better than to insist. So I left you to it. I so wanted to do something, to help you, but I knew you wouldn't let me. I also wanted to go to the funeral and all, but I knew you wouldn't like that. I kept thinking of a way to help you. I wanted to do something but I didn't know what, and I wasn't sure you would appreciate it." Then he asked softly: "Is it like that for you?"

Brian hadn't said anything, but as always he had listened. "Yeah, I guess" he finally answered. "It was different for me though, we weren't… I mean…"

"We weren't really together yet."

"Yeah."

"But now, we are. And you want to help."

"Isn't it what I'm supposed to do?"

"We never do what we are supposed to do, Brian. Only what we want."

Brian looked at him and smiled gently.

"And you want to help." stated the young artist.

"But I don't know how."

"Well, it seems to me you know exactly how, Brian. You've been great. Really." He emphasized his sentence with a steady look. "You're helping."

When Brian shrugged, his Adam's apple bobbing as his throat constricted, Justin repeated firmly "You do help. I promise you, you're helping."

Not one to contest a promise, Brian nodded and squeezed Justin more tightly.

After some time, they fell asleep and when they woke up, almost at the same moment, and realized it was their last night together before a few weeks, they felt an urge, an intense need to touch each other, to be with each other, to simply exist in each other's arms.

XXXXX

Justin was on his lover's lap, clutching at Brian's neck, Brian's arms firmly holding his smaller frame. They were sweating and panting and barely moving. Every single part of their bodies was in contact and Justin's head was crooked in the hollow of his lover's neck, and Brian could feel the warm ragged breath and the surprisingly fresher tip of the nose. They were clenching so desperately onto the other that it was almost painful. Only their hips were grinding against each other and Brian's cock was barely sliding in or out; it was mostly rocking inside. That was actually what they were doing: rocking slowly against one another. It was intense, extremely intimate; so much that they couldn't look at each other. Justin's chin was then on Brian's shoulder and the older man moved his head to place it on the side of Justin's own head. They didn't kiss, they didn't talk, they just held onto each other, desperately trying to _feel. _ Justin was too tired to cry. He didn't have any tears left. He was home. No matter where he was, as long as Brian was there; he was home. And right now he couldn't think; he just needed to feel.

XXX

Being in Brian's arms, hearing him pant, his sweat strongly assaulting his nose, touching the soft skin and the taunt muscles under it, was what made him feel alive. That was the only way he could be sure he was still there: breathing, living.


	19. Head high

A/N: Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, and Merry not Christmas to those of you who don't. But, don't worry, today all of you get a little gift!**  
**

This is one of my all time favorite chapters. I just am really proud of this one, maybe because it just wrote itself so easily and because I thought it was really in character. I hope you'll agree.

The title is something that reminds me of my best friend who always tells me to hold my head high and to "fuck them all". (I guess she's kinda like Brian :) ) She's just the best. She's always there to cheer me up and listen to me, even while we live in two different parts of the world.

She'd tell to all of you who are in a bad place right now, to hold your head high and keep going no matter what. Then she'd just bring you to the dancefoor and dance with you till dawn. Yeah, she's kinda great. A bit like Brian here.

But enough babbling, let's cook, eat a lot, open presents and of course, read!

Happy holidays everyone!

fra22

* * *

**Chapter 18: Head high  
**

_Day 6, Pittsburg International Airport_**  
**

* * *

_He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it's not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It's the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he's saying, 'Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?' _

_Melina Marchetta_

* * *

When they would be at the airport and one of them had to leave, Brian would always say stupid things like:

"Don't forget to brush your teeth after each meal and don't forget your lunch box before going to work."

And Justin would answer back with a snicker and a "Yes, mother."

"And don't forget to jerk off thinking about me every morning before going to work and every night before going to bed or Santa Claus won't bring any gifts to naughty Justin next year."

And Justin would grin and tease back. They would keep their distance, having said goodbye in private, and they would look longingly at each other, already regretting having both come to the airport.

The few times Brian visited Justin, they always agreed that Justin should not pick him up and not accompany him on the way back either, to save him the cab fare and the time, and honestly, to save themselves from the shitty, heartbreaking goodbyes. Of course, every other visit Justin would end up in the taxi with Brian for his return flight. It sucked even more to have him there, because the extra time they got together would be filled with uncomfortable silence and a craving to touch the other. They were not into PDA in general and even less in the "real world". Brian preferred to fuck Justin's brains out and leave discreetly when the young man was still in a daze. That was how he liked to remember the fair-haired man when he got into his plane. Not a sad Justin alone in the airport check-in area; a sad Justin he couldn't even touch.

But now, as it was Justin who was leaving, a grieving Justin, Brian had to drive him himself –'more convenient'- and make sure he got his tickets –'we never know with internet'. So here they were, standing face to face, trying to think of something meaningful and heartfelt to say without sounding too emotional. Justin was leaving after having buried his dad and none of them knew exactly when they would see each other again.

So instead of sharing the usual banter, Brian made a quick decision -not so much acting on an impulse as on a need he knew was shared- and brought Justin into a hug.

He whispered into his ear, barely stopping to take a breath:

"I won't say it twice. As soon as I'm finished talking, you go. You don't stop, you don't look back. You walk right to your terminal, your head high and you don't cry; you don't dwell on anything. You go to New York and do your thing and you call if you need anything. You call even if it's only to talk. You call even if it's just to hear my voice or my breathing or some other romantic bullshit. You just do it. You need me near you, I come. You need money for a flight back home, you say so. I love you and I _know_, Justin, I know you'll be alright because you're strong and I am so fucking proud of everything you do. Now you take your shit and you go and you better text me when you've made it back home. Go."

And he kissed deeply the side of Justin's blond head, right on his hair, and pushed him out of his arms, and Justin did as asked and left without looking back, his heart so heavy and light at the same time. Brian had said he loved him for the first time since the bombing, because Brian knew Justin needed to hear it at that moment and, if the hazel eyed man was honest with himself, because fuck if he didn't need to say it too.


	20. Alone

A/N: I'm so sorry about the wait, but I got a job that's taking ALL my time. Seriously, I barely sleep. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but it's been waiting for too long in my files.

* * *

**_Chapter 19: Alone _**

_NYC, night 6_

* * *

_If you're going through hell, keep going. _

_Winston Churchill_

* * *

Justin was in the shower. Alone. In his apartment. Alone. In NYC. Alone. He had called Brian, letting him know he had arrived safely. It was mandatory. They'd joke about it, tell each other casually -like Brian had that day- to text, but it was a serious deal. Every time one of them would travel, they would give a quick phone call to let the other know they had arrived. It was a very couple-ly thing to do -not that Justin would ever tell Brian- but they needed it. Living five hours away from each other, they needed something like that call to make sure the other one was safe and okay. Plus, it gave them an excuse to call their partner without looking like a lovesick lesbian who couldn't stay away after having been separated from her lover for only three hours.

But now, Justin was all alone in an apartment that suddenly looked so big. Most of the time, it seemed so small that Justin had to get out to avoid suffocating. But now, it seemed huge and it appeared to be so quiet. Usually, the fair-haired man complained about how noisy everything was: the bed, the fridge, the neighbors, the streets. Now, all the annoying noises seemed to have evaporated and only a dead silence was to be heard. A dead silence. Dead like his dad.

Justin was smart enough to know everything was in his mind. Those impressions were due to his staying at the spacious loft with another person living with him. He also knew he should avoid certain words and certain thoughts, but he couldn't help himself.

As he tried to relax under the warm spray, he brought his hand to his penis and stroked. He should just get off and go to bed sated. Tomorrow would be a new day. A better day. The positive thinking was not working though, and Justin could not get hard. It was just that he had a few upsetting days and had just left his lover in Pittsburg; a lover who was also all alone in his loft. A lover who never complained; a lover who did not complained this time either, even though he had to endure the funeral of a man he hated, a man who hated him. Everyday Justin would touch himself thinking of the sexy man who was probably thinking of him in his own shower back in Pennsylvania. Sometimes, it would bring him much pleasure, but other times it would frustrate him more. He was fed up with not being able to touch Brian, to be touched by him. That plus the death of his father was too much for the artist. A mess. Justin was a mess. At this point he couldn't care less. He would cry or scream until he couldn't anymore, until he was so drained and numb from the pain that he would just go to bed and let exhaustion bring him to sleep.


	21. I'm a lunatic

A/N: Sorry for the delay and thank you again for your support -quiet or not so much for those of you taking the time to leave great reviews.

And I'm also sorry to say Justin is still in a weird funk...

* * *

**_Chapter 20: I'm a lunatic _**

_ NY, week 2._

* * *

_"Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes open, I'm heavy, like there's too much gravity on my heart."_  
_Sarah Ockler  
_

* * *

A new week began. Brian would call Justin every day, just to make sure he was okay. Well, as much as you can be when you just lost your father and are living on your own, far away from everyone who could have helped you. How can someone offer comfort over the phone? If Brian was not so emotionally handicapped he could _maybe_ have thought of something. But he couldn't. He knew that if he asked someone, they'd tell him to put himself in Justin's shoes, to reverse the situation. They would ignorantly tell him that he went through it too, so that he could do exactly what he had been expecting from people, what he had wished for, when his own dad died. And they would all have been wrong. He could never put himself in Justin's shoes. Justin and he were too different. He couldn't put his own grieving experience at use either, because the only thing he had wanted from people back then, was to be left alone and to forget all about that piece of shit that used to serve him as a father. But Justin was different, always different, and even though he might have wanted the exact same things that Brian did back then, Brian would not let him, because at the end, Justin would get hurt. Brian remembered all too well the times they pretended nothing had happened. He recalled telling Justin to 'forget about it' and how it all exploded in their faces later on. Most importantly, he regretted deeply how Justin got hurt in the process. This time, Brian would not let that happen. Justin needed to grieve and he'd do it correctly. Brian just needed to discover the right way to deal with the death of a loved one.

XXXX

XXXX

Brian. Again. Justin placed his phone back on the bed. He put the pillow on his head and groaned. He had the night shift the night before and it was too early to get up. Brian was being sweet, Justin knew that. Still, he couldn't stop feeling annoyed. He didn't need anyone checking up on him. It was not like he was going to end his miserable pathetic life, jumping from a bridge or something more poetically tragic. Besides, every single one of Brian's calls reminded him of what happened: Brian would not be systematically calling him _every day_ if his father hadn't passed away.

Every day always started the same: Justin would wake up and as soon as he'd leave the half awake state you always are in when you leave sleep, he would remember. It would be there, sure and strong: the pain. Some mornings Justin would stay for a few minutes in bed, his finger in his mouth, his teeth lighting grazing it, cataloguing the emotions he was feeling. He tried to classify them, label every single one of them and assign them a percentage. 65 % of pain, 15 % of anger, 5 % of incomprehension… Just like that he would evaluate his day. With the dominating pain, he would have an extremely emotional day. With a higher percentage of anger, he would be fueled with energy and yell at stupid cabs on his way to work, but would do a great job at the hostel and create incredible paintings. Of course, he would get infuriated because he didn't have the space to really paint and would be too restless to stay still and meticulous on his computer. He needed to stroke and pressure the brush on the canvas. The worse would be when he had to go to bed. He just wouldn't stand to stay in bed. He'd need to get out and go dancing or fucking. Anger fucking was the best. He would take it on the ass of a stranger who would be ever so grateful. Go figure: the more you treat them like shit, the more they ask for it. Brian sure as hell used it at his advantage. Brian. "Quit calling" yelled Justin. Today was not the day. Today was 85% full of anger. If only it could soothe the remaining 15% of pain…

XXX

XXX

As for Thursday…

Thursday, the artist woke up numb. It was as if he was paralyzed emotionally, as if his heart had been anesthetized. He just felt empty. When he was very angry, he would throw fits and tantrums, yell at stupid, disrespectful patrons, dangerous cab drivers or loud neighbors. He would feel like a maniac, taking his anger on other people. But it would feel good. Anger was easy to manage, to direct. He had a lot of experience with rage. After the bashings -his and Daren's- the fury living in him took him to dark places, but at least it had taken him somewhere. Been in this state, insensitive to everything surrounding him, felt strange and wrong, but Justin couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to shake it out, to scream or punch a wall or cry; cry until he couldn't breathe, cry till sleep claimed him. His mind wanted him to do just that, but his heart, his body, wouldn't let him feel anything. He just couldn't bring himself to get out of bed or eat, even less answer the phone. What was he supposed to say? "I don't feel anything"? He couldn't tell them all the truth. Brian, Lindsay, Daphne, Debbie, his mum, they were all calling, trying to cheer him up or make him talk. He wished he could tell them he was spending his days crying; it would make him feel more human. The truth was that he barely had shed a tear since he came back to New York**.** Since then, he had been in a daze. Actually, he had been in a daze since he had heard the news. Maybe he had filled his quota of tears. Maybe, that was it: the number of tears he was supposed to shed for his father.

So, on Thursday, he didn't answer Brian's call. He couldn't talk to him and appear like a pathetic lunatic in front of his partner. He felt so selfish. He was feeling sorry for himself when he was supposed to be sorry for his father. Indeed, he wasn't the one who had died before the age of fifty.

The message he found on his voicemail later that day didn't help diminish his guilt. Brian's tone was harsh, but Justin could hear the concern in the voice. Brian was being great and Justin only worried him. So he took a decision. He would be fine. He had to. He couldn't worry Brian and his family like this. He would take his life back and control his emotions better. He would smile and declare with the most conviction he could muster that 'he was fine, thank you'.


	22. A little bit of sunshine

**_Chapter 21: A little bit of sunshine through grey clouds _**

_ Pittsburg, week 3_

* * *

_"You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair". _

_Old Chinese Proverb_

* * *

Brian was at his desk at Kinnetik. He'd just had one of those exhausting meetings when the clients asked for so many changes that it was like starting a new campaign all over again. What were these people paying him for, if they were so good at creating an ad? He was tired. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. He was worried. Justin was 'fine'. At least, that was what his partner was telling him, but Brian knew better. And it worried him even more to know that his lover was lying and dissimulating his real state of mind. Surely, they had been through rougher times and had seen each other in worst states. Why did Justin felt compelled to lie? That was what disturbed Brian the most. Was he doing something wrong? Was Justin trying to put some distance between them? No, Brian decided, Justin was never calling from his own initiative like he used to before his dad's death, not because he was fed up with Brian, but because he didn't want to be a burden. Brian didn't see any other way to show the young man that he was not a burden than dialing him every day. He was not giving up. One way or the other, Justin would have to talk.

He picked up his cell phone and speed dialed Justin. He was ready to, yet again, leave another voicemail, when the artist picked up at the sixth ring.

"Hey", started Justin in a low voice.

"Hey." Brian whispered back.

"…"

"What are you wearing?", purred the adman, slouching down on his big comfortable leather chair.

"You sure you want to do this at work?"

"How do you know I'm at work? I'm calling from my cell."

"Where else would you be at this hour of the day?"

Brian thought about that. Justin was right of course, but he still hated to be this predictable.

"Well, I'm the boss; I still can have phone sex in the middle of the day, in my office, if I fucking want to."

"You could, but not with me. I'm in a café. I can't talk like _that_ right now."

"Since when are you shy in public, Sunshine?"

"Since I'm in a crowded café with my friend; my _straight female_ friend." Clearly enunciated Sunshine.

"I'm pretty sure she'd be enjoying herself. Remember: straight girls like you."

"Where do you get that from?"

Brian waited, eyebrow raised. Justin could picture it from NY.

"Daphne doesn't count. Plus, it wasn't more than a stupid, non-founded crush."

"So, who's that lovely friend you've got there?"

"Sarah. I told you about her."

"Hmm." He wasn't about to admit Justin that he, indeed, knew whose friend he was talking about. The blond might get the idea Brian listened to him, _sometimes_.

"So what's going on with you and this Sarah friend?"

"Well, she's doing this thing…"

"That's generally what people do. They do things." Cut Brian.

"Yeah, well, she's a part of a show. She'll exhibit a few pieces and she heard the gallery still had a spot for another artist. She's been talking about me to the curator and he wants to see my work."

"That's great!" enthusiastically exclaimed Brian.

"Yeah. She's being selling me very well, talking about the article and the show I was in this summer."

"Well, she seems like a good friend."

"She is. She's been great…" Justin trailed off and Brian knew why. He understood: she had been great to Justin in this period of grief. Well, good for him. He deserved to have a good friend in NYC.

"So when are you meeting him?"

"At the end of the week. It's not a done deal or anything, so don't mention it to anyone. I don't want to… well, I want to meet him first."

Brian nodded. Again, Justin knew without having a visual. They had been doing the conversation on the phone for a while now. He heard a lot in Brian's silences.

"It won't be anything big…"

"Doesn't matter, any showcase is good. You just need to show your paintings, gain some publicity."

"Plus, I need it. Two shows in seven months, it's not enough to get noticed. I need to display more."

"Well, that's great news, Justin. When's the show?"

"Next year. In February. It'll let me some time to find a place to paint and have the pieces ready."

"Any news from the school you told me about, with the studio time?"

"I'm still on the waiting list. But having a show lined up could help. It'd make them look good, like 'we are so good, even our assistants get showcased' or some bullshit like that."

Brian smiled. Justin did know a few things about the advertising world.

"Look, I'm sorry Brian, but Sarah is waiting at our table, so I…"

"Sure. Go back to your straight female friend who is totally not interested in you." Smirked the adman.

Justin gave a short laugh. "She's not, Brian. Really. She's just genuinely a nice person."

"Well, enough about females, what about the guys in the café? Anyone decent enough to blow?"

"Bye, Brian." Justin laughed before hanging up.

The line disconnected, Brian kept the phone in his hand for a while. Justin sounded fine today. No wonder, if he had a show in prospect. Justin loved to be busy, especially during hard times. Hopefully this would work. He needed it, now more than ever. It'd been hard for him to find shows. It was always the same: you needed references. You needed to already have a loadshit of shows lined up in order to have a chance at a new one. Like Justin said, there were so many art students in NY that everything was a competition, even the tiniest, crappiest exhibitions. It was even harder for someone like Justin, an artist from another town and without a college diploma. But he had a small success at the first show he had been a part of during summer. Unfortunately, he couldn't propose any new pieces without a studio. He needed some space to paint. If only he would allow Brian to help him pay for one… but Brian knew better than to offer. Now, Justin needed to paint, he needed to be able to express his emotions. They say that most artists produce their best work during hard times. With all the hard times Justin had had in his life, no wonder he was creating masterpieces all over the place. He'd get this show.


	23. A kick in the gut

**_A/N: _**I know it's been a long time and I'm sorry about that. I'm on a break and hope I'll get more time to edit and more importantly, will find inspiration again. This is a really short chapter, so I'll post the next one quickly.

* * *

**_Chapter 22: A kick in the gut _**

_ NYC, week 4_

* * *

_"I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried."_

_John Green_

* * *

He didn't get the show though. The curator had seemed to like his work. He'd even seemed to understand that Justin couldn't present him the canvases at the moment. He'd seemed convinced that Justin would have them ready for February. It'd seemed to be a done deal. But it wasn't and that was why Justin was under the shower spray crying. Or was he? He wasn't sure anymore. Maybe it was the hot water that was irritating his eyes. It was another kick in the gut. Every time it looked like it was going to be okay, to get better, something else dragged him back to this; this pathetic attempt at being strong. It hurt. It fucking hurt. It felt like no matter what he did, he wasn't good enough. No matter the sacrifices, he couldn't be perfectly happy. There was always something: a bashing, an eviction from school, cancer, ideals of a family life, the art world; death. He had been too hurt, too often. And apparently, it wasn't going to stop. His father would have told him "well, that's life, son. You take a lot of shit in the face, but you take it as a man. And you stay proud and strong." Even his shitty father wasn't there anymore to give him shitty advices. Life took it all. What was the point of fighting if it took everything away anyway?


	24. I'm tired

**_Chapter 23: I'm tired _**

_ NYC, week 5_

* * *

_The gates of Hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way: but, to return, and view the cheerful skies; in this, the task and mighty labor lies. _

_Virgil_

* * *

He shouldn't have told Brian about the exhibition. Now, he had to tell him that _poor little Justin_ once again got rejected. He couldn't lie about it. Brian would want to come to the show. Plus, he couldn't dissimulate something that important. He could still gain some time. So, when Brian called, he told him he hadn't heard from the gallery yet. Again and again. But the following week he just lost it:

"God, Brian, can't you stop? Fuck, don't you understand? They don't want me! The show would have to do without Justin Taylor's genius."

There was a long pause. Brian was trying to understand why his lover had hidden some important information from him, and Justin, instead of taking this moment to regroup, used it to fuel his dejection.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brian finally asked.

"I think you can guess. Look, I don't need your pity."

"You know damn well pity makes my dick soft. Justin…"

"I know, I know. It's not the end of the world. I'll get the next one. Their loss, not mine. Blablabla."

Brian stayed silent. When Justin finally spoke up, when he finally explained his feelings, he did it in a small strained voice, speaking very slowly, as if it hurt just to talk about it.

"I'm just… I'm tired Brian. I needed this. I need this. I'm becoming crazy here. I need to paint, I need to create, to smell the turpentine, to hold a brush, to put some dirty old clothes on and enjoy the light. A computer is not the same. I need to create, Brian. It's who I am. I'm confine in this tiny dark place. I'm trapped in this big town. It's huge, but all I have is this little space. I feel like a lion in a cage. I… I need to do something. I'm becoming crazy and I hate it. I hate it, but I don't know what to do. I didn't do all of this, I didn't sacrifice what was the most important to me to work in some hostel and paint on a computer. _We _didn't sacrifice our life together for this. I can't admit that. It's too much."

There they were. The tears. His voice cracked. He was drained. He just wanted to sleep. He had had enough. He would just go to sleep and wake up in a few weeks. It was December already and he was supposed to come back to Pittsburg for a few days, but the truth was: he didn't want to. He couldn't. He wanted to be alone, miserable. He hadn't even asked for a few days off. It was probably too late anyway. It was just as well. Surely, they'd be disappointed; but he couldn't. Besides, he had just buried his father; he sure should be allowed not to want to celebrate Christmas or the new shitty year to come.

Brian was at the other end of the line, his own eyes itching and a bit damp –from the cold, the window was open. He hated this. This was worse than fucking L.A and their six months apart without seeing each other. He was here in the freezing Pitts doing fine and Justin was over there, all alone drowning in misery. It wasn't like he didn't know all of this. He knew it. He knew Justin. But to hear him say it out loud, to see him so defeated; it was hard. Even Brian fucking Kinney had a heart and it was breaking slowly for one person right now.

"What can I do? Justin, tell me, what can I do?"

"Nothing. There is nothing you can do. I'm just tired, is all. I just need to sleep. It's late and I had a long shift. I'll just go to bed."

"Okay." Brian was about to hang up when he heard:

"Brian? Thanks." The ringing resounded in Brian's ears.

The tall man set the phone on the table. What the fuck should he do?


	25. Hello darling, I'm here to cheer you up!

**Chapter 24: Hello Darling, I'm here to cheer you up! **

_NY, week 5_

* * *

_If you hold back on the emotions - if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, "Alright I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment._

_Mitch Albom_

* * *

When Justin opened the door, Brian was taken aback by his appearance. It wasn't the pants sweats, the well worn paint stained shirt or the more than suspicious socks. No, what shocked Brian that day, was Justin's facial hair. In all those years, Brian had never seen Justin with a collar or a bear or a mustache. He only ever felt a vague stubble when Justin hadn't being shaving for a few days. The weird thing with the blond was that while he was not hairy everywhere, the parts of his body that actually did have hair were extremely furnished. Those parts were his legs and his pubis region and his armpit. It always amused Brian that the fuzzy hairs accumulated in only some regions, leaving the rest of his body quite smooth. His fair-haired lover was hairier than him body wise. Brian's hair only focused on his face, neck and his pubis. That day, he discovered that Justin actually did have hair on his face and that the thin lines of blondish hair surrounding the pink mouth and obscuring his jaw actually defined it very well and made him look so much more masculine and grown-up. And did Brian need to say, fucking hot as hell?

He observed one more time the disheveled appearance, the tousled hair, the horrible clothing, the sleepy eyes and the dry mouth of his lover, before stepping in and engulfing his tongue in Justin's throat. He pulled Justin's face towards his own with both hands, discovering the feel of the soft facial hair on his skin. It was not bad, not bad at all. Usually the adman preferred his men not hairy, especially not on the face but with still a few hair on the body. What was the point of fucking a _man_ if he was as hairless as a girl? He hated when men waxed every trace of masculinity off of their body. Most lesbians had more hair than a lot of gay men. And now, as he cupped Justin's bearded face, he couldn't wait to feel it on his neck and chest and cock.

Brian looked pointedly downwards and tapped into Justin's foot, knowing full well that the blond would automatically -and most probably unconsciously- open his legs some more and, with a sly smile, asked to a puzzled Justin:

"So, are you going to invite me in?"

Justin would have smirked at the pun, but he was too dumbstruck.

XXX

XXX

"Brian, I…"

"No talking, Sunshine. Today's pink special is a quick fuck on the floor, followed by a long fuck in bed and on the side menu we have a blowjob in the staircase or one in Central Park. I'd recommend both for a complete protein intake."

As he talked, Brian was licking and nipping at Justin's neck, grazing his lips against the soft hair. It was strange, a bit ticklish too.

"Brian, I need… Brian!" He pushed gently but firmly Brian away. "I'll be right back okay?"

"Where are you going?"

"Just one sec, I need to brush my teeth. I just ate… well, you don't want to know."

"Fuck that. I don't care, I already kissed you, remember? So, come here" he added, tugging Justin's arm.

"One sec, please. I want to look presentable. It's your fault, you didn't give me any warning." He said, walking to the bathroom.

"That's the point of a surprise." Brian groaned, closing and locking the front door. He used the three latches -he wasn't going to take any risk; his clothes cost more than Justin's entire furniture.

"I hate surprises", whispered Justin. Brian's first and last surprise visit the previous month had been a great one for about two minutes, before turning Justin's life upside down.

XXX

XXX

They couldn't fuck in the shower but they still could fuck in the small bathroom. Brian proved it when he came behind Justin who was brushing his teeth and pressed his cock against his ass, biting his neck. Justin took all his time, pretending not to be affected and leaned down to rinse his mouth at the faucet, _of course _not purposefully grinding his ass back. Brian lost patience all of the sudden and took Justin before the blond even had time to place his toothbrush in the glass. Said brush dropped into the sink and Justin saw his reflection in the mirror, his mouth wide open. Brian fucked him thoroughly, watching in the glass, and Justin held his stare. It was intensively hot and Justin's knuckles turned white from holding forcefully the side of the sink in order to prevent the onslaught on hurting his stomach. The young man wound up on his toes every time Brian thrust in. Fucking while looking in a mirror was really hot. Even though both men liked every kind of positions, they had a thing for face to face fuck, more so since they were more committed to each other. The thing with fucking from behind was that, although it was extremely enjoyable and hot as fuck, you couldn't look at your partner. But now, with the mirror, they were able to combine their favorite things together. It was so arousing and weird to be able to see their own faces in the glass and see how they looked like when fucking.

At first, Justin held on. He gritted his teeth, gripped the sink, and controlled his face's reactions. Then, he let go. For a short moment he would enjoy this. He'd close his eyes and feel. There was nothing like Brian's dick in his ass to make him feel more alive. For a moment, he'd be himself again.


	26. Something is missing

**Chapter 25: Something is missing / choices**

_NY, week 5, the next day  
_

* * *

_"I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar,_

_but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar."_

_Robert Brault_

* * *

Brian left as quickly as he came –pun intended. One of his Boston's accounts was freaking out about something-something. Justin did not really pay attention. What he paid attention to was Brian's promise of coming back the next day. Justin felt a bit guilty about that. Brian had come to NYC just for him and would come back once again just for him. The adman could say anything, like 'Boston is closer to NY than to the Pitts so therefore I'll gain travel time', Justin knew. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't blame Brian for not wanting to leave him alone. He looked like shit. He might look good with long hair and a beard, as Brian repeated over and over the previous night, asking him to rub his facial hair all over his body –who knew Brian had a facial hair kink?- , but it wasn't him. He didn't really understand if he was just being lazy, not wanting to shave or if he was trying to go for the starving artiste look. Maybe a little bit of both. Maybe neither. Maybe he was tired of being himself. He needed a change. He was quite laughable actually, and Justin did laugh; a dark self-deprecating laugh rousing from his knotted throat. Here he was, having turned his life upside down in order to pursue a dream, and he wanted to change things again. He looked straight into his own eyes, his stare reflecting in the mirror. Maybe he just looked exactly like he felt.

He opened the cabinet, efficiently breaking the stare and the miserable vision. There, was laying his razor. He looked intently at it for a long moment, then reached the shelf and took the washmouth set just besides it. He closed the cabinet in a bang, poured more liquid than necessary in the lid and put it in his mouth. He gargled for a few seconds and then he forcefully spit it in the sink. Without another glance, he turned the light off and exited the exiguous bathroom.

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XXXXX

On the plane leading him back to NY, Brian tried to work, but he just ended up staring at his laptop's screen. On an impulse, he went to the image library and opened a few files. He smiled as Gus's face appeared. The boy was growing up so fast. Lindsey had sent him the newest photographs two days before. Brian decided to call her soon and plan with her his next visit to Toronto. It had been too long since he last saw his son. 'Already three months', he thought. Only three months and his kid seemed so much older. He could hear Michael complaining again and again about how his little baby girl was not a baby anymore, how he missed her and how he needed to see her, not bearing not being able to see her grow up. Brian guessed he shared the same feelings. He went quickly through his schedule, establishing different dates where he could be spared at the office and flight to good old Canada. He needed to make sure to choose a week-end Justin would be free. They could both use a change of scenery. Plus, the girls would be happy to see the young man again.

Brian looked back to his schedule again, this time going backwards. He gazed at the different boxes marked with the sober note: "NY". For the past seven months, Brian had to make choices. His agency was still young, and as the CEO, there were a lot of things that just couldn't be done without him. Of course, _now_ that he had more work than he could handle, he had to split his time between three towns, and between the members of his family. He wanted to spend more time with Michael, actually, _needed_ to reconnect with his oldest friend. But he also needed to see Justin. He just couldn't go on like nothing had happened, like he didn't propose to the guy and almost married him. He just couldn't back to tricking every night and not take the time to call his partner. Even if he wanted to, it was just not as fun as it used to be. He could still trick anywhere and anytime he wanted, but he didn't have his friends waiting for him to come back. He would never admit it to anyone, but he missed just hanging out with the gang. Now, they were all busy with their better half and even on the rare nights they agreed to go out, the dynamics had change. It was not four single guys looking for a gorgeous guy to spend the night with. It was four guys in a relationship and two other guys who, well, already had someone to think about at night. Brian often asked himself when all _this_ happened. People just walked into his life and never left. Now, when he was taking his breakfast at the dinner, they had to take two tables. Mickey and his husband and their son, good old Theodore Schmidt with his hot young twink, Emmett and his boyfriend of the week. At least, the flamboyant queen was still single. More or less. The fabulous Honeycutt was waiting for his prince to come back, avoiding at all price to mention him, but still looking at the sport section of the newspaper every week. According to Liberty avenue grapevine, Drew Boyd was having a blast, enjoying his new status of the hottest single queer of Pittsburg –after Brian, obviously. Brian could make fun all he wanted of Emmett, mocking him for not being able to keep a guy more than a few weeks, he actually respected a lot Emmett's decision to set Drew free. And it had nothing to do with having at least one person to go out clubbing with.

Brian refused to think about the fact that a lot of the things that made his life five years ago were not really fulfilling him anymore. The club scene had lost a lot of its appeal. Tricks were always the same; always have, always will. Being in a cold bed night after night did not feel like a privilege or a choice any longer, but more like a punishment. Being the eternal single club boy sitting on his own while his friends were having dinner with their respective partners did not seem like a victory. Having to split his time between work and friends in Pittsburg and his partner in NY and finally his son and friend in Toronto was certainly not the life Brian had pictured for himself. But looking at his son's smiling face and at Justin's wonderful grin playing on his laptop, he couldn't imagine not having them in his life, no matter how many hours he had to spend on planes.


	27. Let's not fight tonight

**_Chapter 26: Let's not fight tonight, anger is a waste of time._**

_NYC, week 5_

* * *

_Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy._

_Aristotle_

* * *

When Brian arrived directly from his flight and was buzzed in, he opened the unlocked door and came upon Justin working on his computer.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How was your flight?"

"Fine. No delay."

"Yeah, I see that. That's good."

Brian only nodded. He placed his briefcase on the little table in the kitchen and walked towards Justin, stopping behind him and kissing his neck.

"There're some leftovers in the fridge, if you're hungry."

Again, Brian nodded. He was looking at the piece Justin was creating with the software. It was dark, but gorgeous.

"It's not finished." Justin felt compelled to explain. He felt extremely self-conscious. Usually he didn't mind Brian looking at an unfinished project. Now, he felt like his partner was judging.

"It's great."

Justin saved his work and exited the program. He closed his laptop and stood up.

"I'm going to warm up some food for you. Don't worry, no carbs." He added before Brian could object.

"I need to take a shower first."

"Okay."

"Would you take one too? I can leave the heating on so that… "

"No, I had a late shower."

"You've been sitting for hours, haven't you? Your back must be killing you, some hot water…"

"I'm fine." Justin cut him off. His voice was strong and a bit exasperated.

Brian stared at him for a few seconds but didn't say anything. He went to the bedroom, got out of his suit and crossed the main room; naked. Justin didn't even look up from the fridge. He was in a bad mood. No matter how nice Brian was, he felt like Brian treated him like a kid. He knew the older man didn't mean anything by it. He knew that, he just didn't want to been told what to do to feel better. Justin had no intention of perking up.

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They had had a few fights over the last seven months. Once or twice over the phone, once or twice while Brian was in NY. Justin remembered the first argument they had in the Big Apple. It was early on and it was only the second time Brian had visited Justin. The first visits started almost two months after Justin had left Pennsylvania. They had both been really busy and hadn't found time to meet. They also felt that Justin needed to settle before Brian could join up. Of course, they never discussed it. It just felt right. But after six weeks, right after Justin had found an apartment on his own, Brian reached his breaking point and announced to Justin that he had a meeting planned in NYC. How convenient! The truth was: they were horny for each other like they'd never been. That and they genuinely missed the other's presence.

The night of Brian's second visit, Justin wanted his lover to meet his new friends but had to drag him to the bar. Of course, Brian couldn't care less about those youngsters. He came to see Justin, to be with him, to fuck him. They didn't have a lot of time, only two nights, and he couldn't believe they were wasting one night listening to some tedious people pretending to be true New Yorkers. Besides, Justin already had told him everything possible about them when relating his adventures.

After an hour, Brian was seriously dozing off and was -did he have to mention- horny as hell. As Justin didn't seem to pick up on the less than subtle signs Brian had been sending him over the last half hour – who was he kidding, subtlety had never be his thing-, he chose another tactic. He would be blunt.

"Justin… Justin…" The blond was conveniently ignoring him. "_Sunnnnshiiiiine!_" he started to sing song.

"What?"

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Why, something wrong?"

"Yes, I'm bored. If I don't leave now, I think I'll die out of boredom."

"Don't be rude, those people are my friends."

"Well, I wanna fuck. Let's go."

"Can't it wait?"

Brian sent an extremely disdainful look towards Justin. How could he ask that? Hadn't he met Brian? But the artist wasn't in the mood for what he considered a childish behavior and didn't even want to use his energy rolling his eyes.

"Look, if you don't wanna wait, fine. The waiter has been eyeing you since we came in. Go fuck him. Then, if you find yourself in a better mood and can actually spare me and my friends a few minutes of your _precious_ time, we'll be here."

"I didn't come to New York to fuck a waiter."

"Well, too bad, that's all you'll get with your pissy attitude."

"Look who's talking." mumbled Brian. But he carefully restrained himself from saying another word, as Justin send him a cold look. He had no choice. If he did leave Justin there, it wouldn't end well. Long distance relationships are hard for a reason: you can't fight properly. You have to wait to be face to face, and when you are, you generally chose to shut the fuck up and enjoy the other's company, rather than spending the short amount of time you have together arguing. If they had been in Pittsburg, there was no doubt he would have fucked the waiter in the storage closet. His silence paid off though, as Justin found an excuse to leave twenty minutes later.

The young man was not really happy about it, but at the same time he, also, wanted to spend time alone with Brian. He could see other people any other time of the month. As it turns out, Brian wanted to thank Justin for leaving early, and Justin wanted to thank Brian for not being too much of an asshole and bearing with the guys. They had a hell of a night and 5 weeks later, Justin wasn't even seeing those guys anymore. He was quite happy he had yielded and chose to spend the rest of the night in bed with his lover. He would have regretted losing a rare and precious night over some acquaintances he would no longer hang out with a few weeks later.

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XXXXX

Now, he was the one with the pissy attitude, ruining a perfect opportunity to just _be_ with Brian. So when Brian came back from his shower, Justin dressed the table for one and sat down next to the adman, watching him eat and asking him about his job. Then, he cleaned up, got ready for bed and tried as best as he could to clear his head. He ignored any residual bad thought and enjoyed the warmth of his lover.


End file.
